


In Tune

by yesterdaychild



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Classical Music, Gen, M/M, chousaheidan love, discussions about aesthetics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-14
Updated: 2013-11-28
Packaged: 2018-01-01 11:56:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1044546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yesterdaychild/pseuds/yesterdaychild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In another life, where there aren't monsters as tall as buildings to fight, their coordination and attention to detail still draw them to one another.</p><p>Also known as the String Quartet AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Exposition

**Author's Note:**

> itsnotapastime drew Erwin with a cello (http://itsnotapastime.tumblr.com/post/66787398917/quick-doodle-of-my-favorite-man-playing-my). This is my tribute to such a beautiful idea.

Zoe Hange walked down the hallways of the Stohess conservatory of music, viola case in hand. She could feel her heart fluttering in her breast. She had graduated top of her class at the Shiganshina college of music, but that really wasn't saying much when your class had had twenty people in it - barely enough for a chamber orchestra.

The audition was going to be held at one of the recital studios of the conservatory. The thought of it made her nervous - she'd never performed on any stage larger than an elementary school's, and Stohess reportedly had state of the art acoustics. Now that was a thought that cheered her up immensely. Just the idea of crisp notes and clarity of sound made her almost salivate.

Her mind went back to her music. She was preparing to play Vieuxtemps’ Elegy, which beautifully showed the dramatic range of emotion and tone that a viola is capable of, a rarity even amongst pieces written specifically for the viola. It was a beauty waiting only to be revealed. Then she had a prepared piece to play – the Presto from Telemann’s Viola Concerto in G major, clearly meant to demonstrate her virtuosity and technique.

The Shiganshina college had received a letter from Stohess conservatory that they were putting together a string quartet, and were looking to fill out the members. It was said to have been orchestrated by the President of the Stohess Symphony Orchestra, Erwin Smith. The deans at Shiganshina, recognising the opportunity for a student of theirs to become a potentially world renown string quartet player, had sponsored her travel fare and lodging in Stohess. Auditions would last a month. The rest was up to her.

She had reached the recital studio. She took a deep breath, and knocked.

A deep voice said, "Come in."

She entered.

*

Mike considered himself lucky that he had made it through to the final round of the auditions. He had never thought of himself as any sort of great musician, but he had come from the mountain regions of the West of the Walls to try his luck. All things considered, a violin player tended to find himself annoying his neighbours where sound travelled quickly in the still cold airs of mountain regions.

Today he would be playing a Haydn quartet. It was technically pedantic, but the true test was not of his technique, he knew. They had reached that point where they were putting together musicians with synergy, with personalities that could work together to create their own sound. The quartet in C major from Haydn’s famed opus 20 featured starring moments for all four instruments – a rarity in a genre that tended to over-favour first violins and cellos, and courteously relegate violists and second violinists to carrying rhythmic and counter-melodic lines.

He reviewed the sheet that had been left on his door. Erwin Smith on cello, of course, with a mysteriously mononymous Levi on first violin. A Marco Bodt on viola - he paused, recognising the Bodt family as one that made decent-range string instruments. Levi and Erwin he had heard of, of course, but Marco's skill remained to be heard.

All things considered, he was a very lucky man. His month here at Stohess had been full of music, nights of concerts and the opera. He had taken his turn busking in the town square, and when he found his hat surprisingly full of coins he had celebrated with a tankard of the best ale he had tasted in his life. He was beginning to be a little more experimental with his music, toying with a more adventurous sound to reflect what he heard in the bustling town with its hoofbeats and bell tolls; tunes from beyond the Walls comprising of tones that existed in between standard intonation. A little harsher, a little stranger – even if he didn't make it through the auditions, he had some inkling of a life he could carve out in one of these bigger towns.

But for now, the audition.

He could smell someone coming down the corridor. This was someone he had never met before - and a young man with dark hair came into the light. He could smell the uncertainty under the pleasant smell of soap and a light scent; all in all the young Bodt seemed to be a kind young man.

As Marco came closer Mike gave him a stronger sniff. Marco simply smiled in response. 

Mike decided he smelt green - too green to be a survivor, still.

*

_Four weeks later_

Zoe jolted awake, her heart hammering fast. A dream, again, half-remembered - and where was she again? Her head whipped right and left as she struggled to remember - then she saw her viola on its stand, the music on the table, and relaxed.

Four weeks into her time officially at the Stohess conservatory and she still couldn't believe she was here. Waking up was a joy, and she looked forward to practices and rehearsals, and spent more and more time with music - music she'd heard but never seen the scores for, music she'd never heard before, music from distant lands. Zoe drank it all up, working into the night with her analyses, teasing apart the structures and filaments that hold music together. And she collapsed each day into her bed, full to the brim with a kind of spiritual satiation.

In the distance she heard the bell toll eight of the clock. She leapt up, startled - there was only half an hour to practice with the quartet, and today was the first day they would be having their first full rehearsal of their upcoming showcase.

Zoe bolted out of bed, jamming her glasses on and barely taking time for ablutions and clean clothing, before flying out the door.

She made it in the nick of time - Erwin barely looked up at her entrance, which meant she wasn't tardy yet. Erwin wasn't quite a taskmaster, but there were things that he was non-compromising on. One of them was punctuality.

Levi was already there, his feet propped up on the only table, idly twirling a pencil, his perpetually-present cravat around his neck. He always looked dressed for church. His violin lay on a chair in the quartet circle. It was said that Erwin and Levi spent so much time together that they practically lived together. Zoe didn't doubt that, but she honestly thought they made an odd pair.

Mike was also there, tuning the strings on his violin. Zoe said a cheery good morning to the men, then hastened to his side and pulled her viola out, beginning the tuning and resin routine.

At precisely 8:30am, Erwin flipped his sheet music open and said, "Let's begin."

The quartet's method was to play once through, without pause, and then go over the problematic bits. At this point they had already practised he individual pieces together, so it was a matter of piecing it all together. A test of unflagging stamina coupled with attention to each other's body language, anticipating each other's habits.

The Schubert began with a rousing statement from all four strings, a declaration of intent and purpose. Then Levi carried on the melodic theme, strong but tender, his eyes closed as the majestic line lifted and soared. Mike’s second violin laid on waves of arpeggios, steady as a strong current, while Erwin’s cello and Zoe's viola laid down the humming semiquaver ostinato that gave the piece its characteristic urgency.

As they closed their set, there was a moment of silence. Zoe was suddenly hyper-aware of everyone's breathing, and the collective sense of anticipation. Then Levi lowered his bow, and he moment was broken.

"That was good," Erwin commented, as if he were talking about the weather. "The complexity of the lines in the Puccini isn’t coming out right, though, so let's get on that right away."

Another thing Erwin did not compromise on: musical perfection. Zoe thought she ought to feel pleased that Erwin considered her proficient enough for his formidable standards.

She picked up her bow, and they began again.

*

"So what did you think?" Erwin asked Levi after Mike and Zoe had left.

"Good enough for the director, I should think," Levi said, gently putting his case on the ground. Then he slumped into a chair, and began rolling out a leaf.

Erwin propped his cello up against the wall, then sat behind his desk, pushing the ashtray closer to Levi. "Roll me one too, if you'd be so kind."

Levi pushed the papers and leaf across to Erwin, lit his, and smoked for a little while. Before long, Erwin said, "I think we need to mature into each other's sound a little more."

"But we're still good enough for next week's showcase, of course," Levi pointed out.

Erwin gave him a look. "Well, of course. We didn't just audition a hundred people from across the Walls for nothing."

"What are you planning, Erwin?" Levi asked. It was true he shared many of the concertmaster's thoughts, but he often never quite knew just how many steps ahead Erwin was already at in his head.

Erwin contemplated the leaf he was rolling, taking especial care with it.

"Why do you play, Levi? Why do we play music, any of us?"

Levi rolled his eyes. No matter how dearly he thought of the man, Erwin was overly fond of his cryptic questioning. He said nothing, as usual, letting Erwin draw his own immaculate conclusions, as usual.

"We play because music is life writ large. It's a summary of our joys and our sorrows, a trace of the arc our hearts take in the big and small events of our every day. The wordlessness of music is emotion and interpretation in their purest forms, signalling the ultimate relatability of any piece of music to any individual. And we chase that. We search for that moment of truth and connection in a crystallised skein of woven harmony and melody. Every day we play, we pray we come closer to the truth about our humanity."

"In other words, music is an aesthetic representation of our lives. I get it. But what's next, Erwin?"

"The director is going to want to see me after the showcase," Erwin said, lighting his rolled leaf. "And he is going to ask me again to prove that the entire search for the other half of our quartet was necessary. I'm going to propose The Brandenburg Concertos."

"Bach is _not_ a good way to prove a point," Levi noted. "It’s awfully… well, _Baroque_.”

"It's the instruments," Erwin pointed out.

Levi understood at once. The Brandenburg Concertos were often performed as chamber pieces, which meant that it included the instruments that comprised a string quartet.

"...ah," he said. "Integration. Involve them naturally into the rest of our performance season and before long the rest of the symphonic orchestra will be clamouring for justice if they leave."

"And my little hat-tip toward the aristocratic bureaucracy," Erwin added. "The Brandenburg Concertos were dedicated to some old military commander and were perfectly fawning of authority."

“Very neatly done,” Levi said admiringly. “You’ll essentially be saying, ‘Thank you, you old fool, now bugger off and leave us alone.’”

“Nobody knows me quite as well as you do,” Erwin said, not even bothering to hide the smugness in his voice.

“Nobody should,” Levi said, exasperatedly, but smirked. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music featured in this chapter:
> 
> Zoe plays:  
> Henri Vieuxtemps’ Elegy for Viola and Piano, op. 30 (1854)  
> George Telemann’s Presto from Viola Concerto in G major (~1761-1721)
> 
> Mike prepares:  
> Joseph Haydn’s String Quartet No. 2 in C major, op. 20 (1772)
> 
> The quartet prepares the following pieces as part of their first showcase:  
> Franz Schubert’s String Quartet No. 13 in a minor, "Rosamunde", D. 804, Op. 29 (1824)  
> Giacomo Puccini’s Crisantemi (1890)
> 
> If you're new to the world of classical music, I encourage you to give the Vieuxtemp Elegy and Schubert quartet a go on YouTube.
> 
> George Telemann wrote one of the earliest Viola Concertos, and his legacy as a respected composer of the Classical period is reflected in the choice of it as an audition piece. Zoe prefers the deep emotionality of Henri Vieuxtemps' Elegy, not least because it makes the viola sound as versatile as a cello and as emotional as a violin. It is very moving. Zoe's choice reflects an understanding of the Telemann piece as a technical showpiece, while the Vieuxtemps shows off her artistry as a musician.
> 
> Joseph Haydn was considered the father of the string quartet as a genre, and was extremely prolific - as he was with most other genres. His Opus 20 collection of string quartets is considered some of his best work and is considered standard string quartet repertoire.
> 
> Erwin chose, among other pieces, two pieces from either end (more or less) of the Romantic period. Titled Rosamunde, Schubert's String Quartet still bears more than just a measure of Classical restraint and elegance, and has long, flowing melodic lines carried by an interplay of rhythmic textures. On the other hand, the operatic Puccini's Crisantemi is more symphonic in texture, and swells and ebbs like one, putting its focus on the thickness of harmony and the totality of the sound as its melodic lines move in tandem. With these choices, Erwin shows off his new string quartet's ability to play off and support one another in a multitude of ways.


	2. Development

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The string quartet of the Stohess Conservatory of Music, led by musical visionary Erwin Smith, has their first showcase. The quartet moves toward the start of an entirely new musical movement.

The showcase was to be held in the concert hall, which sat a maximum of two hundred people. People had come from across Stohess and even from within the city to hear the new string quartet play. There were those, too, who had come to hear the prodigious Levi play.

It was the biggest audience Mike had ever had.

Half an hour before time, the quartet completed their tuning. They laid their instruments on the seats of their chairs, and left the stage.

Mike absentmindedly wiped his palms on his pants.

"You'll get them wrinkled," Zoe said.

Mike looked down and saw it was true. He took out his handkerchief instead and wiped his hands down on it.

"I'm nervous too," Zoe said in a conspiratorial whisper. "And have you seen Erwin? He's criticised us a lot less than usual today. I bet he's on edge too."

Mike said nothing. He recognised Hange's well-meant platitudes for what they were, but honestly being told that their leader was nervous too did nothing for his nerves.

Zoe looked at his face, and astutely held her tongue. They found Erwin and Levi having a smoke. To Mike's surprise, Erwin beckoned for them to join him and Levi.

"Levi and I were thinking we should all celebrate after this," Erwin said. "What do you think?"

Zoe and Mike looked at each other. Thus far they had socialised minimally, spending only their practice and rehearsal time together. Mike knew that Levi and Erwin shared a bond that didn't allow for a third or fourth, and he found Hange a little too forthcoming for him to be comfortable seeking her company outside of their practices. Instead he spent his evenings alone, practising or frantically composing.

To be invited somewhere for an evening - that was unusual.

It was Hange who broke the silence. "That sounds great," she said, and he nodded his agreement. And that was that.

In the end, the showcase went splendidly, Mike thought. Their Schubert was met with explosive applause, after which he released a breath he hadn't even known he was holding. The four of them looked at each other, and, gratified, broke into smiles. Then Erwin lifted his bow again, and they were off again.

By the time they got to the Barber in b minor, Mike was feeling relieved and even relaxed. He let himself sink into the slow but steady walking pace of the music, which took its time to grieve the coming of the end. The music rose higher and higher, into the rafters, into the heavens, quivering in the brightness that it had created. Levi led the end with a steady, brave recapitulation of the theme, and as the last strains of the music died away, the four of them hung there, in a single, suspended moment of utter hush and silence. And when Mike looked up, he began to hear sniffles and the conspicuous sound of nose blowing from the audience. Then, starting with a single clap, a thunderous ovation broke loose.

Erwin was the first to stand, but far from taking the first bow, he gestured to the others to their feet, ushering them to the edge of the stage. Only then did they take their bows as one, lifting their fists to their hearts in gratitude.

*

"...and then this idiot here, he says, 'Well don't you think a cat would be nice?' Except, of course, he doesn't know the first thing about raising a cat. So he finds a kitten and brings it home he's all enamoured with it - until it pisses on his sheets!"

Mike and Zoe laughed uproariously at Levi's story and the mock-glare he was giving Erwin, who in turn was turning crimson with embarrassment. They were having a drink in the local alehouse, which was as far removed from the staid and stuffy cloisters of the conservatory as could be. Erwin didn't say anything to defend himself. Erwin didn't say much in public, Mike noticed, saving his words instead for when they really mattered.

It was him was cut through the laughter being made at his expense, though, to ask, "So Zoe, what do you do with your spare time?"

Zoe said, "Well... I read sheet music. I hunt down scores in the library and analyse them."

"Analyse them for?" Mike couldn't help but ask. Hange was turning out to be a pretty cool person, and he was coming to appreciate her forthright personality and her bursts of unladylike laughter.

Zoe started to fidget with fervous, right at the same time that her eyes were growing bigger with excitement.

"Music's so beautiful, isn't it," she said in hushed tones. "The way it's written - it's a structured process, where all the harmonies and progressions are already laid out in conventional forms, but still there's some ineffable ingredient that makes it so sublime. And the way composers talk to each other and to musicians and respond to musical conventions and new things in their lives _all through their music_ \- it's fascinating."

"You're so _weird_ ," Levi drawled. "You're like an uber-geek."

"Well, what are _you_ passionate about, Levi?" Zoe countered.

"Oh, you know, this and that," Levi said airily, taking a draught from his beer.

"Levi's a complete clean freak," Erwin volunteered out of the blue. If Mike squinted, he could see the beginnings of a smirk playing around Erwin's lips as he prepared his counter-attack for the kitten story.

Levi slanted a warning look at his tall blonde friend, but Erwin carried on ruthlessly. "Once a week Levi puts on a little headscarf and ties a handkerchief around his face, and dusts."

Zoe's face turned so purple from laughing so hard that Mike worried that she was going to burst, or asphyxiate, or both. He found himself chuckling hard, too, and before long they were all thumping the table at Levi's pursed lips.

"What are you weird about, then, Mike?" Levi challenged.

Mike wasn't sure himself, his thoughts and his experiences of the past two months still something amorphous even to himself. "I guess it's - I'm not very good with words, sorry - but I guess recently I've been obsessed with music that's a little different from what we play." 

That got their interest and attention. "What do you mean by that?" Erwin asked.

"The music of where I'm from - it's different. It's more lively, and more modal than tonal. But you don't hear it much in the kind of music we play. When I came to Stohess I went to a lot of places on the edges of the town, where a lot of people who have come to Stohess to work are living and drinking. And I discovered that the music of my village and the music we play aren't the only kinds of music out there. Everyone who comes here is bringing in the music from wherever they are from with them, and I - I've never heard anything quite like it."

Erwin and Levi exchanged a smile, and something wordless passed between them. Erwin said, "Someday you have got to show us what your music sounds like."

Mike stood up. "I can do it right now," he said. Perhaps it was the ale, or it might have been the company, but he climbed onto a chair. Immediately the alehouse began to quiet as people noticed him.

Without further ado, he launched into a song about a bonnie lass, describing his love as fairer than any.

Levi closed his eyes, drinking in the simple, repetitive melody, embellished only by microtones. Mike turned out to be a passing fair singer. His voice was sonorous, making it almost hypnotic in the stuffy, still air of the tavern. But his resonant voice was not all that was captivating about his song - Mike was not only singing about the loss of a beloved, but was pouring a keen yearning for the place he called home into his song. He sang with the heartbreaking bewilderment of a man adrift, alone in a strange place, even though it was by his own choice; searching for the new person he wanted to be, and knowing he could never return to the one he used to be.

And when Mike was done, the men all around the alehouse pounded their tables, and there was nary a dry eye to be seen.

*

Erwin and Levi lay in silence, each deep in thought. Levi was still thinking about that song Mike had sung, of the melancholic stirring it had ignited in his heart. Levi hadn't known another home apart from the one he shared with Erwin in a very long time, and the sentiment was as good as foreign to him.

"Why are you still awake?" Erwin murmured into the nape of Levi's neck.

"Thinking about tonight," Levi answered in return. "What about you?"

"I'm thinking that I don't just want them as part of the concert season, or even the orchestra," Erwin said, half-pensively, like he was still forming his thoughts. "I think they can be far more than that."

Levi turned around in Erwin's arms, so that he could look at Erwin. "Now I'm thinking that you need to stop thinking so much."

Erwin kissed the top of Levi's head. "What's bothering you?"

Levi sighed. It was useless hiding anything from Erwin. "That song Mike sang. That sadness is a stain. It wears on you. A terrible reaching out for something beyond your reach. Of a loss that's repeated over and over again."

Erwin looked down at the man in his arms, whose eyes were staring almost deadpan into his. "You know I'm never leaving you, right?" 

Levi snuggled closer, burying his face in Erwin's chest. "Go to sleep, Erwin."

*

Just as he had expected, Erwin was summoned to the director's office the next morning. 

Director Dot Pixis had the face of a grandfather and seemed genial enough, but Erwin knew enough about the man's temperamental nature to know not to be fooled by his calm demeanour.

"That was a great showcase last night," Pixis said by way of greeting. "You really proved a point."

Erwin inclined his head. "Thank you for your feedback, sir."

Pixis eyed him shrewdly. "What's on your mind, Erwin?"

Erwin straightened his posture out a little more under the director's piercing gaze. "If it pleases you, sir, I'd like to give Zoe Hange and Mike Zacharias into positions here at the conservatory."

Pixis raised an eyebrow. "i thought this string quartet business was a little pet project of yours, Erwin. You never gave any indication of the intention to raise the participants in your side project to full faculty here at the conservatory. Does this not defeat the purpose of the semi-autonomous nature of your project, if they are going to be part of our staff anyway?"

"It's true that I never mentioned raising them to full faculty," Erwin admitted, "But the truth is that the idea only came to me last night. Zoe has immense theoretical and historical knowledge of the musical canon, and would be priceless as a lecturer or an archiver. Mike has the potential for a new type of music we have never heard before. His technical prowess, his keen ear, and the fact that his musical background is just as steeped in the traditions of his own village's as those of the musical canon - just having him around other musicians and composers is simply going to bring a different sort of energy into our work."

Director Pixis steepled his fingers in front of his face. "You do understand that this institution has traditions to uphold."

"Of course, sir," Erwin said. "But with all due respect, it's not enough to simply doing what we've always done before. If we want to firmly establish Stohess as the seat of musical development in this region, we need to show that we are open to new ideas. 

Pixis said nothing for a while, just scrutinising Erwin's face, and Erwin looked impassively back at him. 

"You're just the President of the orchestra, Erwin," Pixis finally said. "What do you care about Stohess?"

This was where Erwin had to tread extremely carefully. "We're currently producing some of the finest music out of this conservatory, Director," he began. "But what is music, if not to serve humankind? What is it, if not to celebrate our joys, mourn our losses, affirm our strife? Give voice to the indescribable emotions that go beyond mere speech? Music is a cultural artifact, and it is going to grow and mature in ways that we cannot even fathom. My only hope is that people will come to Stohess to perform, create and enjoy new music, instead of elsewhere. And to do that we must keep ourselves open and flexible to accept these people with open arms, and follow the tide of humanity."

The Director chuckled. His eyes crinkled at the corners, and he shook his head in apparent mirth.

"Erwin," he said, "You've got far bigger plans for this Conservatory than I do."

Erwin relaxed slightly. Director Pixis was known for his direct honesty, sharp insight and even complete humility if he could be convinced that he was wrong. 

"I like your idealism, young man," Pixis said. "Now tell me how you wish to proceed."

*

Zoe was having the dream again. The four of them, with their bows in their hands, in a dark place that looked like Stohess, but wasn't quite. She looked down at the bow in her hands, and was surprised that it had become a blade, and that there was another in her other hand. She looked at the other men - Erwin and Mike's faces had hardened almost beyond recognition, and Levi's eyes were troubling in how much emotion was stoppered up within them, never leaving the edges to spread to the rest of his scowl. They were facing unimaginable danger, and they were flying down the streets of Stohess with the help of some invisible mechanism that helped them navigate around the danger.

Suddenly, a sense of alarm went through her, and she turned her face to see Mike in the grasp of some awful beast, about to get eaten -

She woke up with a start, heart racing. Over and over again, she was having these dreams, with no resolution. She sat up, reached up for her glasses, and found she was sweating. There was no way she was going to fall asleep again. The moonlight streamed in through the window, to form a path of light right by her bed. She went to her table, lit a candle, and began to write.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot less music in this chapter this time.
> 
> The quartet's showcase is designed to be short - a 30-45 minute programme simply to introduce the string quartet as a new musical offering. In addition to the Schubert in a minor and Puccini's Crisantemi, the quartet capped their programme with the second movement from Samuel Barber's String Quartet no. 1 in b minor, op. 11 (1936). In our world, this is better known as the movement that Barber arranged for string orchestra and titled Adagio for Strings.
> 
> Mike sings a traditional Irish song called Red is the Rose. Irish folk music is dependent on modes, which sort of provide the melodic material upon which a piece is built - and indeed the modern scale is based on certain modes. Because many of these modes are different from the 'standard' pattern of the modern scale used in used in the music that developed in our Central Europe, the two types of music sound very different. I'm really hoping that I'll get to play more along these lines in the next chapter.
> 
> If you look at the line of the canon of music from Central Europe that we call 'classical music' today, there was a definite dearth of musical influence from other parts of the world until the late 19th century, in the period between the Romantic and 20th Century periods. Mike is bringing some of that influence in.


	3. Recapitulation

A breath. Every time Levi put his bow to strings, he found himself acutely aware of everything around him. The breath of space between horsehair and catgut was minute, but was the last obstacle to be crossed before ordinary air turned sublime.

His violin crooned gently at him as they moved together intimately through the étude. He played expertly, owning the music, but ever conscious of the homage he needed to pay it. Music needed to breathe, to expand into its ownself. A violinist was only a conduit through which a piece of music reached its own apotheosis. A musician was a servant to that purpose.

When he opened his eyes, Erwin had entered the room. Levi felt warm, his nerves singing and thrumming from the exercise.

He put his bow down, signalling that this was a good point for an interruption.

"I need to talk to you," Erwin said, striding across to him.

"This couldn't wait until after my practice?" Levi said.

"I thought it might be more efficient to come _while_ you were practicing." Erwin held out a sheaf of papers for Levi.

Levi took them. "A new score?" He frowned, not understanding why this had warranted time from his personal practice. It's not like a new score was unusual.

Erwin nodded his head at the score. "It's by Mike. I wanted to know if you think the violin part is playable."

Levi looked askance at Erwin, unsure if that was meant as an insult to his abilities or to Mike's compositional talents. But when he saw the score, he gaped.

"Good grief," he said. "What is this?"

Erwin shrugged almost helplessly. "That's what I said," he sighed, dropping into a chair.

*

Zoe sat in the cafe with Mike, nursing a cup of coffee. He had his head in his hands, and his own cup of coffee was cooling rapidly in front of him.

"Come on," she said. "It couldn't have been that bad."

Mike groaned, an indistinct sound muffled by all that facial hair. "You didn't see danchou's face."

"Will you let me see it?" she asked as gently as she could.

Mike shook his head. " _Danchou_ took my only copy. Said he was going to show it to Levi - oh _no_ ," he exclaimed. "Levi's going to tear it up, isn't he? And I mean _literally_."

"There, there," she said, parting his head gently as he slumped over again, completely ignoring the other patrons inching slowly away from them. Mike was being uncharacteristically chatty, so he must be seriously distraught. "I don't think he'll do that."

"You don't know that," he said in what sounded suspiciously like a sob.

 _But the thing is, I do._ She reflected pensively, wondering if it was worth saying. _Ah hell_ , she thought, _it might distract him._

"The thing is," she said slowly, "I feel like I know Levi really, really well."

He looked at her with an expression that suggested he was questioning her sanity. "Are you in love with him or something? You know that's never going to happen, right?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Really. You think I don't know that. No, it's not that... I just feel like we've all met before. All four of us. Sometimes I get these feelings of déjà vu, when we play particularly well. And..." she looked down at her cup, turning it slowly. "There are these dreams."

For a moment she thought Mike was lost for words, and she couldn't blame him. After all, parsing meaning from dreams was so 19th century. But then she realised that something was dawning in his eyes - something oddly like recognition.

He didn't say anything, so Zoe took that as her cue to continue. "I dream of the four of us facing off with these terrible beings, and instead of bows in our hands, we clutch a blade in either. We've all seen a lot of death, all of us; a lot of our friends have died. And we all somehow have the ability to fly short distances; sometimes I see us zipping through the city, impossibly fast, but somehow still not fast enough to survive."

Mike asked, "How many times have you had this dream, Zoe?"

Zoe shook her head. "Probably a few times a week since we formed. The dreams have only got stronger."

Mike stood up abruptly. "Follow me, Zoe," he said, and he was striding away even as Zoe was scrambling to her feet.

"Where are we going?" She asked as they walked down the cobblestoned street.

"A mystic," he said simply. He didn't seem to think there was any need for explanation, so she refrained. As long as it distracted Mike from thinking about his score, she was probably doing the right thing, right?

The mystic lived in one of the rooms of a dodgy inn that was half-full and rowdy even at this time of the day. It was near the Wall, so Zoe figured that they were probably travellers stopping for an hour or a day before moving on. Mike swept right in and headed straight for the stairs; it seemed that he had been here many, many times before.

Mike knocked softly on the door and said, "It's me, Mike."

A sigh, almost of resignation, came from within, and then a heavily accented girl's voice said, "Come in."

When the door opened, Zoe was not prepared for what was within.

The space within seemed almost cavernous, with all the furniture pushed to the sides to clear room in the centre of the floor. Cloths in vibrant reds, greens and blues decorated every surface, and a faint smell of something sweet and heady perfumed the air. Zoe took in the richly-patterned carpeting covering the floor, in the centre of which sat a woman with her legs crossed. She seemed to have the darkest skin Zoe had ever seen, even amongst the sun-burned farmers of her village, but the red inkings on her hands and the dark kohl around her eyes drew Zoe's attention instead.

"Your shoes," the woman said, nodding at Mike.

Zoe looked quizzically at Mike, who was beginning to tug at his laces and fumble his boots off. Zoe bent and did the same.

" _Namaste_ ," he said, approaching the woman with his palms together. Zoe awkwardly followed with a mumbled copy of his words.

" _Namaste_ ," the woman returned, and nodded at Mike. "And what brings you here today? Would you like me to play for you again?"

"My friend," Mike said, indicating Zoe. "She's been having unusual dreams. I was thinking you could help."

The woman nodded. "If you please," she said to Mike, "I'd like to speak to her in private."

Before Zoe could say a word, Mike was gone, grabbing his boots with him.

The woman said, "Your hands, please." Zoe stretched out her hands, and the woman gently turned them over so they were palms up, and scrutinised them.

"You're one of Mike's fiddle-playing friends," she observed, and Zoe started.

"Yes," she said. "How did you know?"

"Saraswati knows all," she said enigmatically. "Your current life seems to be peaceful enough," she said, still poring over Zoe's palms. "So what troubles you?"

Zoe shook her head. "I don't know," she confessed. "There shouldn't be anything wrong, to be sure. I mean, yes, I moved to an entirely new place and I became part of the quartet, but those are good things."

The woman nodded. "And your dreams, when did they begin?"

"Sometime... right after the quartet formed."

"Not before? Troubled sleep, perhaps?"

Zoe furrowed her brow, perplexed. "Yes, actually. I was waking up in the middle of the night though I didn't know why. But I thought that was the stress of the auditions."

"Or a coincidence of a different kind," the woman said, putting her hands down. "If you wish, describe your dreams to me."

Zoe told her. She left nothing out.

The woman listened impassively, not even flinching when Zoe confessed things she hadn't even dared to say to Mike: that she had seen Mike get eaten and die, and Erwin lose an arm before her very eyes.

"These people," she said, when she was done, "Did you feel like you'd known them before, even if you knew it to be impossible?"

Zoe thought back on those first days, of instinctively knowing that Levi and Erwin shared a special bond, of knowing and understanding Mike's considerable idiosyncrasies. She thought about their outstanding showcase, and how much they had achieved in such a short period of time.

"I've always put that down to musical affinity," she said slowly and carefully. "You know, when people just click musically..."

The woman nodded. "Do you believe in past lives?"

Zoe gaped. "You're saying that we knew each other in our past lives?"

"Or will, in a future life," the woman replied. "Either way, there is a connection between your souls that is pulling you together. When you are all born into the same eras, something happens that brings all of you together. And the key to that is in your dream. Karma went awfully awry in that life, and so it is reverberating across the generations to give you four a chance, over and over again."

"You're crazy," Zoe blurted. "I came here because of the opportunity, not because of some mystical hocus-pocus."

The woman shrugged expansively. "You asked for my opinion."

Zoe laughed desperately. "Let's assume you're right. So what happens now?"

The woman looked right into her eyes. "The four of you are destined for greatness," she intoned. "So don't waste this life."

*

"Your friend is crazy," Zoe declared without preamble when she'd found Mike waiting outside the inn.

Mike pushed himself off the wall, but said nothing.

"She said we knew each other in our past lives, and get this - _future ones_. That we were drawn to each other. That's way too out there. What on the Walls were you thinking when you brought me here?"

"She told me about your dream," Mike said abruptly.

Zoe whirled on him. "What? I just left, how could she -"

"Before we even met," Mike continued. "I came here during our audition month. Some fellers dared me to spend the night with her. Instead, she told me my fortune."

Zoe had fallen silent.

"She told me I would succeed in the auditions. And she told me I would meet a woman with great passion, who would have dreams of violence and tragedy. Dreams of giant man-eating beasts and unimaginable terror. She told me I would die in those dreams. But that I wasn't to worry, that it wasn't an omen for this life."

Zoe's eyes filled with tears. "You knew," she whispered, mortified that she had tried to leave out Mike's death at all.

"The way I see it," Mike continued, "It seems like we're destined for happiness. If her theories are right, our ephemeral, eternal selves are trying their darndest to put right whatever trauma is coming or has come to us. Hey -"

But Zoe had already fled.

*

Zoe wasn't at practice that day. Levi and Erwin assumed she was ill, and Mike said nothing. After all, she might very well have been.

Toward the end of their practice session, Levi pulled out the sheet music that Mike had passed to Erwin. Mike saw that it was full of markings.

"Have you played this yourself?" Levi asked.

"Of course," Mike said, lifting his violin to demonstrate. But instead of setting it between his chin and clavicle, he leaned it against his collarbone, and rested the scroll on his thigh.

Levi's eyebrows raised expressively.

Mike began to play. His method was also slightly different - it involved a lot more sliding and pulling at the strings to bend the tones, making them less fixed than they appeared on the score though he maintained immaculate intonation. Leaning it against his thigh, Levi noted, made this new technique easier.

Levi stopped Mike partway down the score. "Where did you learn this style of playing from?"

"From a mystic from the East, who lives out in the edges of Stohess."

"Interesting," Erwin broke in, "So violins exist in the East as well."

"She said that traders from the Walls brought them East, but their culture has had stringed instruments for millennia," Mike explained. "The instrument may be ours, but the technique is entirely theirs."

"And this piece you've written," Levi asked, "Is it harmonically and melodically Eastern as well?"

Mike shrugged. "In a fashion, yes."

"If that's the case," Erwin said, "My advice would be to write something that is more of a fusion. More influenced by, rather than an exact copy. More of a respectful borrowing, than a taking. We have no business using music of another culture for our own benefit."

Mike blinked - he hadn't exactly thought of it that way, but now he saw that this was true. "But the technique, Levi? How about it?"

Levi shrugged expansively. "I'll learn it."

Mike broke out into a smile that surprised even himself. He hadn't known how anxious he had been until Erwin and Levi had given him the reassurance that they accepted what he was doing. Nothing killed music more than the unwillingness of performers to play it.

"Thank you," he said honestly. He couldn't explain exactly how he was grateful, but he knew he was extremely lucky to have found leadership in Erwin and Levi.

Levi smirked. "Just write me something more playable next time."

*

Zoe wasn't present at the start of rehearsal the next day. Mike's heart sank a little - they had a fantastic dynamic together, and it would be a pity if his actions had driven Zoe away.

All of a sudden the door burst open. Zoe flung herself through the door, clutching papers in hand. Her eyes were crazy behind the frames of her spectacles, fevered with the glow of some passion and excitement. She went straight to Erwin, barely even sparing Mike a glance, and thrust the papers at him.

"Another new score?" Levi asked incredulously. "What is up with you guys?"

Mike looked at Zoe to see what she would say. Zoe flushed red, but said nothing.

Erwin handed the first page over to Levi, who scrutinised it. After a minute or so he put his violin and bow at the ready, and began the opening bars.

It was harsh; where Mike's had been melodically gentle and full of subtlety, Zoe's was discordant and terrifying. Yet it was a muted sort of terror, as if muffled with a hand - or filtered through a dream. Curious, Mike stood up and went behind Levi to look at the score. The second violin would join in a moment - he sped-read ahead - then, bringing his bow and violin up to his chin, he too began to play.

When they broke off at the bottom of the page, Erwin nodded. "We'll play it," he said in a tone that brooked no argument. Levi handed the page back to Erwin while Mike returned to his seat.

"And your viola, Zoe?" Erwin asked.

Her eyes widened almost comically, the effect magnified by her thick spectacles. She turned and ran out the door, almost as dramatically as she had entered it.

When she returned and sat down, Erwin said firmly, "Next time, nobody is to take time off rehearsals to finish a score."

"Y-yes, _danchou_!" She blurted, her back straightening.

Erwin's eyebrow twitched almost imperceptibly, but Levi broke out in gales of laughter.

"You're a right drill sergeant now, aren't you, Erwin?" he said with mirth. Erwin's composure broke at the ludicrousness of that suggestion, but Zoe and Mike looked at each other and exchanged small smiles.

It was all going to be okay.

*

Zoe slipped into Saraswati's room, clutching the invitation in hand. Over the past few months she had accompanied Mike multiple times to learn this woman's music, but she never got tired of visiting her, or listening to her play.

The two women had struck up an easy friendship, especially considering that woefully disastrous first time. Saraswati had claimed that the honour of dealing with someone with such a strong karmic energy was hers, and apart from accepting payment for that first reading, refused to put a price on their future dealings.

" _Namaste_ ," Zoe said, and Saraswati replied in turn. Zoe slipped her shoes off and sat where Saraswati was pouring a thick spiced tea into cups.

Zoe handed her the invitation. "The Hange Elegy in b minor," she said proudly, "Though in practice we call it The Reluctant Heroes. Premieres next month. Please come."

Saraswati's eyes lit up. "This was the music you were already writing before you came and saw me, isn't it?"

Zoe nodded. "I mean... I had already been having those dreams. And after the shock of what you said had worn off, I realised all it could do was give this piece more meaning. It just made it all the more important."

Saraswati smiled. "I'll be there."

They spent the afternoon talking idly, and practising the meditative methods that Saraswati was teaching Zoe to use to sort through her nightmares. 

Just as Zoe was getting up to go, Saraswati spoke. "I just have a question for you, Zoe," the woman said. "The other two members of your quartet. They're unaware of your dreams?"

"I see no reason to alarm them," Zoe shrugged. "I've seen what become of them, and I figure if they can be happy in this life, there's no need to trouble them with another."

Saraswati nodded. "Cherish what you have, Zoe Hange," she said, "For you already know what another life will bring."

*

The members of the Stohess Conservatory Quartet eventually became musical giants in their own right. Zoe went on to be a superb lecturer at the Conservatory, and wrote some of the most electrifying music of her generation. She would say in later years that the Quartet itself inspired most of her music. Mike Zacharias single-handedly founded the department of ethnomusicology at Stohess, and continued to support explorations into music from beyond the Walls well into his retirement. Historians later uncovered Saraswati and her influence in Mike's journals and letters, though it was only years later that they began to attribute his inspiration to her.

Levi became an undeniably phenomenal violinist, travelling to play with the best orchestras across the Walls. He eventually set up a violin scholarship, its first recipient being his protégé, one Mikasa Ackerman. And Erwin Smith became president of the Conservatory when Dot Pixis stepped down. His visionary leadership firmly established Stohess Conservatory as the place to be for serious, progressive study of music, and musicians continued to flock to it centuries after his death.

The Quartet continued to play together until their retirement. The retrospective that emerged after their dispersal called them a once in a lifetime quartet, and claimed that their music and work collectively furthered humanity. 'For without them,' it was written, 'and their fateful collaboration, our ideas of music would still be trapped within these Walls, understanding only what we had already known before.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For a sense of what the Hange Elegy in b minor might sound like:
> 
> Philip Glass' Suite from 'Bent' (my primary inspiration)  
> Krzysztof Penderecki's Threnody for the Victims of Hiroshima  
> Olivier Messiaen's Turangalîla-Symphonie
> 
> The character Saraswati is named after the Hindu goddess of knowledge and music. The violin is indeed played in Indian music (mostly Southern, or Carnatic music) and is indeed held that way. The melodic and rhythmic structure of Indian music is only loosely congruent with that of the Central European canon, which makes Mike's stealing all the more irritating. For an example of top-notch Carnatic violin performers: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9iletVvZm8U 
> 
> What I've tried to do in this chapter and the last is to show that the definition of what we call 'classical music' is actually extremely geographically limited, and there are many other cultures - for example, Irish and Indian - that have rich musical traditions. I really hope I haven't offended anybody, or come across as appropriative, or exoticising Indian culture.
> 
> I hope you've enjoyed reading this as much as I have writing it, and I really hope this last chapter hasn't been unbearably weird and esoteric. orz
> 
> Leave a comment telling me what you think!


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